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Her throat tightened. His skin, recently covered with a dark beard, was now pale but firm. Thin, defined lips curved slightly at the sight of her, though the line of his jaw remained rigid.
“Well, Cassie,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his naked chest and leaning the battle-scarred shoulder against the doorjamb. “You’re the last person I expected to see. Don’t tell me—this isn’t a social call. Right?”
Her throat so tight she could barely speak, she stared at him. Without the beard he looked exactly like the young man she’d loved so fervently all those years before. “I—I, uh, heard you found your horse.” Dear Lord, why was her voice so soft?
Colton’s grin widened. “Good news travels fast.”
“And he was right in the middle of your ranch?”
“Approximately,” he agreed, amusement plain in his gray eyes.
“So he wasn’t stolen after all?”
“Oh, he was stolen, all right. Whoever took him decided to put him back.”
“That’s crazy!”
Colton tugged thoughtfully on his lower lip. “Maybe they were running scared.”
“You think.”
“I wasn’t here, but Curtis is convinced the same thing happened last year.”
“Curtis could be wrong.”
“I doubt it. Someone ‘borrowed’ the horse—either for free stud fees or just to get under my skin. Anyway, it won’t happen again.”
“Why not?”
One side of his mouth lifted, and he snapped the towel from around his neck. “I’ll show you. Just give me a minute.”
“You don’t have to . . .” But he had turned, disappearing into the house.
Cassie waited, listening to the sound of his retreating steps and feeling like a fool. She’d raced over here fully intent on giving Colton a little of his own back. But seeing him stripped to the waist and beardless, she’d been nearly tongue-tied, and the fire that had propelled her over here had been doused by the water of bittersweet memories.
Fingering the rail surrounding the porch, she told herself she should leave, that being alone with him was doing more damage than good, but she didn’t want to take the coward’s way out. Just as anger had forced her over here, pride kept her from running away.
At the sound of his returning footsteps, she stiffened.
“Okay, let’s go,” Colton said, striding across the porch. He was stuffing his wounded arm through the rolled sleeves of a loose blue work shirt. He winced at the effort while the tails of the shirt flapped in the breeze.
“Go where?”
“I thought you’d like to see what all the fuss was about.” Before she could protest, he took her hand, led her down the porch and around the side of the house.
“Maybe I should just go.”
“I don’t think so. You came over here to bait me, didn’t you?”
“I thought you might apologize.”
“Apologize?” he repeated, then laughed. “For what?”
“Let’s start with accusing my dad of being a horse thief!”
“The jury’s still out on that one.”
She yanked hard on her hand, but his fingers only tightened. “You’re out of your mind!”
